The Beloved and I are both Virgos. Some say this is destiny--Virgos can only really stand to be around other Virgos. Others feel that this combination is sick, twisted and wrong and has the makings of a cosmic disaster. Though we both exhibit stereotypical Virgo tendencies, we normally don't put a lot of stock into our astrological signs and the possible dynamic formed by two of us living in one house.

Until we decide to entertain.

Yesterday, we had friends over for dinner. Not just friends, but one of my dearest friends--someone who has known me half my life. (It's true--we met when I was 15 and I am now 30. Holy cow.) You'd think that we would wake up in the morning, act like normal human beings, enjoy our time with good friends, etc. Well. That's sort of what happened.

We woke up in the morning. And we picked up. Made sure the bathroom was clean. Swiffered the living room. Did the dishes. Decided what to make for supper. Went to the store to pick up a couple of things. Then, my inner Virgo took over.....

Saisquoi: We don't have a tablecloth. I need a tablecloth.
Beloved: Why do you need a tablecloth?
S: Because the damned cat has scratched the table. And there are watermarks on the table because we didn't wipe it down quickly enough the last time we ate out there. It looks bad. They'll be disgusted with my lack of housekeeping skills. I need a tablecloth.
B: OK. Get a tablecloth.

I get two. Because I'm not quite sure the dimensions of the table. I figure if the small one doesn't fit, I can return it, and if it does, I can use the larger one when we use the leaves.

We get home. I put the tablecloth on the table. The small one. It's got blue and green and yellow checks. I thought it was cute. It was also one of maybe three at Marshall's that didn't make me want to vomit. Anyway, it fits, but it's got great creases from being folded up. So I pull out the iron and iron the tablecloth. And the napkins.

B: That's the tablecloth you picked out? What, do you think we live on a farm? You wanna raise chickens in the backyard?
S: $%&@! (Bursts into tears) I knew you wouldn't like it. Why wouldn't you come to the store with me? This always happens!
B: I'm just teasing. It's fine. It's lovely. Why don't you sit down and do some knitting?

This sort of thing continues until about 5. Our friends are scheduled to show up sometime between 6 and 7. The Beloved begins prep work for dinner. I stay out of the way. My inner Virgo decides that she has done enough for one day and I chill out.

Our friends come. We have dinner. We talk. We drink wine. We go to watch a movie. Our satellite connection decides to act up and we can't order a movie. The Beloved suggests a movie, puts it in, and we watch it. The movie ends and our friends go home. The Beloved's inner Virgo takes the wheel:

Beloved: Oh my God. Why did I pick that movie?! It's so slow. And I don't get it. I've never gotten it! Oh, God. They're never going to come back. They hate me.
Saisquoi: It's fine--they hadn't seen that movie. They don't hate you.
B: But, but....I couldn't make the TV work. And, Jesus, The Lady in the Water? What was I thinking?
S: It's fine. Let's go pick up the dishes.

We pick up the dinner dishes.

B: Did you think the roast was overdone? God, I suck! And the potatoes didn't get crispy because I thought it would be easier to cook them in the oven. Jesus. They hated it. It was awful. I'm sorry.
S: It was fine. And now you know for next time that the potatoes don't work as well if you do it that way. Remember, it took you a long time to get them right on the stove--we ate carbon the first few time you made them. It's OK.
B: But....

This continues for another hour while we pick up the dishes, watch the beginning of MAD TV and get ready for bed. At that point, the inner Virgo decides to call it a night as well.

I've got to say, we love to have company. And when the inner Virgo is behaving herself, we have a wonderful time. Unfortunately, that stereotypical neurotic behavior kicks in and leads to absolute insanity. My mother said this morning, they're your friends. Your friends! They are the last people you need to worry about impressing. Just have a good time! And, you know, she's right.

So, L and D, we do hope you come back and that you don't hate us for our poor housekeeping, inability to order pay-per-view, and non-crispy potatoes. Next time I'll make tacos and we can eat on the floor in front of the TV.